


Filibuster

by Nemainofthewater



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon pretty much pans out the same, Don't copy to another site, Episode 1x04: Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Gen, Geralt is very done, Humour, Jaskier tries to help!, Pavetta is grateful, only Jaskier is doubly not welcome in Cintra now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: Filibuster (n.) /ˈfɪlɪbʌstə/: an action such as prolonged speaking which obstructs progress in a legislative assembly in a way that does not technically contravene the required procedures.Jaskier and Pavetta talk. Jaskier wants to help. Geralt can't believe he's friends with this idiot.
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Pavetta, Jaskier | Dandelion & Pavetta
Comments: 52
Kudos: 185





	Filibuster

**Author's Note:**

> An extremely cursed concept that came to me as I was rewatching the episode.

Jaskier, after a quick sweep to check that no other enraged lords are hiding behind any plant pots or suits of armour, steps out into the corridor, a goblet of wine clutched in his hand. Entertaining is tiring work, and he’s taking advantage of a small brawl between the Skellig and Nilfegaard contingent to have a breather. Rest his voice. Indulge in some of the fine wine and food before the servants take it away. And- take the opportunity to wander around the famed castle. Cintra. Shining star of the North apparently. It’s his first time and, judging by the increasingly hostile looks he’s being shot by several lords, probably his last if he can’t convince Geralt to accompany him back.

He’s staring at a particularly ugly painting, trying to figure out what exactly the artist had been o when he painted it, when he hears it. The soft, hiccupping sounds of someone in distress and trying desperately not to show it. 

“Hello?” he calls out, and the sound abruptly stops. “Is there anyone there?”

Silence.

Well. No one’s ever accused him of having such dull things as an excess of ‘sense’ or ‘caution’; indeed, in Jaskier’s humble opinion either of those things is extremely detrimental to the creative process. And Geralt is near enough that if he screams extremely loudly the Witcher will probably hear him. Besides, anyone who sounds that unhappy- well, they might want to be left alone in peace, but they might also want to have someone to talk to. Someone who they won’t ever have to see again. Someone like an extremely handsome and talented bard, whose travels bring him all over the kingdoms and who can be counted on to, ah, comfort even the most despairing of ladies. Or lords. He’s not picky.

It’s with that in mind that he starts down the hallway, and toward where he thinks the sound is coming from. He’s only made it a few feet when Princess Pavetta, the guest of honour (however reluctant) exits from a small side chamber and shouts: “Mother, I told you not to-” before stopping whenshe sees that he is, in fact, not Queen Calanthe (and thank goodness for that).

She breaks off awkwardly, and instead smiles at him. It’s a tight, miserable, thing, and it perfectly matches the expression that’s been on her face for the entire feast. For a moment the two of them hesitate, surprised at who, exactly, they have stumbled into.

It’s Jaskier who breaks the silence. Of course it is. “The, er, the song wasn’t that bad, surely?” he asks. “I mean, it’s no epic, but it’s far superior to whatever drudge Drogodar can come up with.”

Drogodar, the grey-haired bard in residence at the Cintran court, had been struck down with, for Jaskier at least, a remarkably fortuitous bout of food poisoning and is the reason that Jaskier had been allowed in to play in the first place.

“In fact,” Jaskier continues, “I’d wager that the old fart hasn’t composed anything new since he settled in your mother’s court, and that was over fifty years ago!” He shakes his head, mock solemn. “You’re probably crying tears of pure joy, not having to hear the same dreary ‘Epic of the Great Cleanse’ for the thousandth time.”

Pavetta is looking rather stunned but the outflow of words and Jaskier’s bright chatter, but her tears have dried and her eyes are less red.

“He does sing it a lot,” she agrees tentatively.

“I am astounded that the entire court hasn’t succumbed to a sleeping curse, or some such thing, just to get away from hearing it! Again! He guest lectured at Oxenfurt university when I was a student there, and I swear, he sent the entire class to sleep within the hour. Snores all around, including the Master. Not that he noticed, of course; just kept rambling on about his ‘extensive research’.” Jaskier snorts. “The only research that he’s done is into his cups!”

“Hah!” Pavetta laughs, a bright noise, before she clasps her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“There we are!” Jaskier says. “The correct reaction to that joke of a bard. Now, I hear you say, Jaskier, you genius, why don’t you stick around and take his place, stop us all from dying from boredom? Alas, my genius is needed elsewhere, protecting the life and reputation of the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia himself.”

“Surely a Witcher doesn’t need anyone’s protection?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised! Why only today…” Jaskier trails off conspiratorially and lowers his voice. Pavetta leans in closer to hear him and he mock frowns. “…I saved the entire Cintran court from the stench of Selkimore guts and Geralt from being executed for, for-”

“Abominable stench?” Pavetta suggests.

“Exactly! I had to use half my stock of scented oils as well!”

“A truly great sacrifice,” Pavetta says.

“One that shall be sung of through the ages,” Jaskier agrees solemnly. “As you can see, I am an expert at fixing problems. So!” He folds his legs beneath him and plops onto the floor, patting the ground beside him. “Why don’t you tell me about whatever has you worried, and I’ll see what advice I can give?” He strums his lute encouragingly. “If nothing else, I can sing you a song that _isn’t_ a jig or about the Great Cleansing, and who knows when you’ll next be able to hear one of those?”

Jaskier gives her his best _look_ ; open and helpful, with just a smidge of concern. The one that has the ladies falling over him, and that definitely doesn’t make him look like a constipated whore, _thank you_ very much Geralt. After a moment’s hesitation, Pavetta gracefully sits next to him. And starts to speak.

#

“Geralt!” Jaskier says, the next time the Witcher gets up to piss. “My best friend. A friend to all humanity. Never one to turn down a person in need-”

“What,” Geralt growls, “Do you want, bard?”

“Weeeeellll do you remember that talk we had earlier about you owing me a favo- Oh, hey, no!” He backs away quickly from Geralt’s thunderous look, dimmed only slightly by the clothes which, yes, possibly aren’t his brightest sartorial creation but are pretty good considering he had to find something that would fir Geralt’s ridiculously broad shoulders.

“It’s nothing big!” he says, speaking quickly. “Just a teensy-weensy thing. You won’t even notice it. Promise.”

“What,” Geralt says, his face a study in painful long-suffering, “Have you done now?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all, and I am hurt that you would accuse me of something! Me! Your best friend. Yes, well, I forgive you, what are friends for, and in return all I ask is that you keep Calanthe from killing me until the twelfth bell. And er- possibly after as well.”

“What.” Geralt says, flatly.

“Oh come on, Geralt, it’s in the name of true love!”

“Oh fuck.”

Jaskier beams. “I knew you’d agree, you’re the best, thanks Geralt!” And then he scampers off before Geralt can react. Looking over at the high table, he gives Pavetta a wide smile and a covert nod. Everything is going to plan.

#

He’s less sure of himself, an hour later and winding down his speech.

“…and so,” he says loudly and flamboyantly. “As you can see your majesty, I- Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhoven am the perfect match for your daughter, Pavetta! Not only are my lands great and, er-” he casts around for the right word, desperately, “-productive, I am also extremely well endowed in other areas!”

He’s really struggling to find more to say, and he’s only been talking for 45 minutes, including two musical interludes (which, in retrospect, probably shouldn’t have been about his prowess in bed) and an argument with one of the drunker lords about the status of his balls. Geralt really couldn’t have come up with a better lie? His voice is growing hoarse, and he can feel a bead of sweat dripping down his face. It can’t be much longer until twelfth bell, surely?

On the high table, Geralt looks like he’s one sentence away from murdering Jaskier, and honestly? He’s in good company. The only reason Calanthe hasn’t has him executed yet is Pavetta’s restraining hand around her mother’s wrist on one side, and the fact that she’s sitting right next to a Witcher with a vested interest in keeping him alive on the other. Though, that interest might be rapidly diminishing, given the glares that are being levelled at his head.

“-in fact!” Jaskier continues. “Let me just list off all the key exports from my lands. There’s um. Grain? Of some sort? I think it’s wheat, though it might be oats. Haven’t been back in a while you see. No, wait! Pretty sure it’s millet. Yep, millet that’s the one! Though it could also be corn-”

There’s an almighty crash from the back of the hall and, exactly on the twelfth bell, the doors burst open, scattering guards in their wake.

“Excuse my late intrusion, your majesty!” the armoured knight cries, “And for my misunderstanding with your guards-!”

Jaskier falls back in relief.

“Oh thank god,” he mutters to himself as he watches the drama play out. “For a moment there I was worried I’d actually have to marry the girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that everything from that point onward went exactly the same as in canon, only Duny didn't look like a porcupine 😂 Oh, and Jaskier definitely wasn't allowed back into Cintra! Either that or he's Ciri's godfather now, there is no middle ground. 
> 
> I am on Tumblr as [Nemainofthewater ](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


End file.
